Jeff: The Killer. Part Two
The Second Story I hope you found my last diary entry on the body of Betty Colms. Today I give you something horrible on a plate. A man who screamed and begged for his life. I documented the whole thing on paper after the incident and I leave it to you; the witness, finder of body, or public to read! I stalked Mark Bird from his house in Winston Hill, to a bungalow in Preacher Avenue. I noticed he was visiting his mother. It's him I want though, not her. Mark was an alleged pedophile back in 1990. No details emerged, but he was surely guilty. He wore these colorful wristbands to tally chart his list of raped children. All seven testified against him, but they were all tested and found to still be virgins. Something wasn't right. I took a needle, empty however all I needed it for was stabbing the cunt. My mask wasn't present this time, I wanted him to see my face. I took my inhaler with me... Things last time got a bit... hectic. My breathing has become too loud as of late. Finally, my trusty knife was packed into my rucksack. Studying his movements and his house for a day before, I noticed Mark is a creature of habit. He stays up until around 2am, masturbating over what I believe to be child porn very late with the sound turned up. He has his headphones on while he does this, though. That is his weakness. If I can get him tonight, his existence will be wiped from the earth. I will have what is mine, and I can even make some money off of it. The Mansion of Delights are apparently taking bodies to experiment on. Mark gets home about 6pm from work, and immediately showers. He sings in the shower - the same song every night I presume. Whitney Houston. He stays in the shower for a good half an hour, doing what I haven't found out yet but I presume he masturbates in there also. His shower is very large and open, almost walk-in style. You could easily fit about 3 others in there with him to shower; perhaps he had this built for his 'victims'. I will find out soon enough! Darkness comes. And not soon enough. I am peeking into Mark's living room. He is watching some crappy TV show really loud, and eventually falls asleep. Six hours pass, and I get very impatient. It is now crunch time , so I take my needle out and place it horizontal in my mouth, ready for when it is needed. I am shaking. WHY THE FUCK AM I SHAKING. Mark finally wakes up, rubbing his crotch with his right hand and then gets up and turns the TV off. He chuckles to himself and then starts rubbing his crotch with his left hand, this time with his hand in his pants. That's right Mark, go ahead and do your thing! He sits down, and when he does he plops into the chair much like a dog in its bed. His cock in one hand, he awkwardly puts on his headphones with his right hand, dropping them once or twice in the process. I peek through his letterbox and notice I am free to pick the lock on his front door. It is child's play (Excuse the pun). Mark sits there, masturbating for a few minutes while I take position and get ready. Two minutes later, when I can't watch this sick fucker for any longer, I emerged from the darkness opposite his Computer, and stuck my needle into his neck at a diagonal angle moving it about in the progress. Had I done it wrong and killed him instantly, severing an artery? Blood spewed out everywhere, and he screamed although the screams were more like gargling. Blood filled the room almost; it was all over my shoes and jeans. He stopped moving very quickly, and in the few seconds he had his movement still he grabbed me at a desperate attempt to stop me. It wasn't enough. I pick his body up, and blood splatters over the floor as I drag him to the shower. I throw his body down, and realize he isn't dead yet. Perfect. He gargles what sounds like fuck you at me, so I get my knife and hastily remove one fingernail from his right hand. He screams in agony as I throw the nail at him. He tried to kick my feet from under me, so I held his right leg down while I hacked at it with my knife. His knee is severed at this point and I can see the bone. At this point Mark can barely move. Before he died, I cut his scalp off and licked the blood from inside. It felt good to finally catch the pedophile that ruined my sister's life. It was all for you, darling. I drain his body of as much blood as possible down the drain and leave it hung up, with his skin flayed open and stomach completely removed for the Police to find. I write PEDO in large letters scraped into his skin on his chest. I then take a photo of myself. Please find me soon. Else next time, it won't be a pedophile that dies. It might be you. It might be someone you know. It might be... me. End day two.